After the Drop
by ViperiumPrime
Summary: Victoria "Tori" Greene is a typical teenager; her life revolves around school and boys, espeically the new kid, Ryan Jones. But her life is turned around when a mutant bomb hits her town. Now, Tori must learn to control her new abilities, all the while trying to survive in a whole new kind of world.
1. Chapter 1

1

I remember thinking to myself, now there's a handsome one.

Typically, I ignore men. I have yet to meet a respectable man, or at least one I'd be willing to kiss. And the ones who are are jerks, jocks, and douches. Such is a teenage girl's life; boys, and homework.

Normally I wouldn't give the time of day to the newest hottie in town, but something about this one caught my eye. I stole glances from my notebook as he quietly talked with Mr. Austin.

I'm pretty perceptive; the air was filled with an estrogen-tainted charge. Apparently, I wasn't the only one to notice him walk in the room. I saw the other girls quickly running their fingers through their hair or scooting over a bit to point out an empty seat. I even caught Mattie Haynes unbuttoning her shirt a little.

My momentary infatuation passed. I wasn't blind; I was no competition for the blondeheads in this class. The new guy would be drooling over one of them in a few weeks.

To my greatest surprise and joy, my handsome man set his green backpack in the chair beside me. Honestly, I could have died right then and there and been fine with it.

As he settled into his seat, Austin cleared his throat a little (though he really didn't need to; everyone was dying to know Handsome's name) and said brightly, "A new face to a new school year; Ryan Jones. Glad to have ya with us, Ryan."

I almost nodded in agreement, then caught myself. I couldn't help it; immediately, I thought to myself, Victoria Jones. Yeah, I could live with that name.

I should have introduced myself. I should have turned right in my seat, locked eyes with him, smile, and introduce myself. Instead, I raised my head a little, thought of all the ways I could embarrass myself, and quickly went back to writing. _Great_, I thought,_ real swell. It doesn't matter if he was the one, because your too damn shy to even look at him._

I was the definition of awkward introvert. Sure, speeches were fine; I could memorize a speech. But conversation? You can't memorize that. Too unpredictable—it was the reason I barely talked, and even then, in as few words as possible.

But Ryan wasn't shy—absolutely not. Barely five minutes had past and he struck up a real, almost long-lost-friend conversation with Johnny Burns.

"Hey, you on the football team?"

"Hell yeah I am. You're looking at Ravenmore High's own Johnny Burns, the next Brett Favre."

"I take it you're the quarterback."

"The one and only."

"Any chance you're having tryouts for the team soon?"

My heart deflated. My handsome Ryan, just another jock. I literally sighed. God, I hope he didn't hear.

"Our season's about to start. Tryouts were last week, before school started. What'd you play?"

"Wide Receiver."

"You any good?"

"It's my favorite position."

"Yeah, but if you aren't any good, don't bother wasting my time."

There was a pause before Ryan responded. I could hear the frown in his voice, "I'm good, Johnny. Very good."

"Oh, yeah? Well, let me talk to Coach then, buddy. Trust me, one word from me, and you'll be on the team before you can say Johnny Burns."

Ryan didn't reply.

I saw him shift in his seat back to a normal position. Then, he turned to me.

"Are you reading a book in this class?"

I glanced at him. At him. I never reached his face; I stared awkwardly at a knot on his desk. "Yes."

He didn't say anything. I realized my mistake. I quickly looked at my own desk and talked to my notebook.

"Catcher in the Rye. We just started it." _Look at him, damnit._

"Thanks."

I didn't look up for the rest of the period. When the bell rang, I jumped up so fast I knocked Ryan's book off his desk.

"Uh, sorry," I mumbled, positive he didn't hear me. I picked up his book, all too aware my hands were sweaty. I didn't even realize his hand was out to take the book from me. I awkwardly, half-set it, half-threw it on his desk.

I practically ran away.

But the world decided to hate me that day, and as I sighed in relief as I took my seat in my next class, Ryan walked in. of course, he looked around the room, at all five of us who were early to class, noticed me, and smiled.

Awkwardly, I glanced away and pretended to be fully absorbed by the blank chalkboard. I heard someone sit in the usually empty chair next to me. Ryan.

"Two classes in a row huh?"

I smiled way too big. "Yeah," I laughed, talking to the chair in front of me. Jeez, I must have looked crazy.

"Hey, do you have Math next, with Fletcher?"

Thank the gods. "No."

There was that awkward pause again. Again, I realized my mistake. "I've got Art," I said way too quickly.

I'd never been more excited to see Mr. Battersby walk in the room. Ryan stood up and went over to him. It wasn't long before he was back next to me.

"As you can see our numbers have increased by one. Ryan, welcome to Siderock, and to US History."

"Thanks," Ryan said smoothly.

Thankfully, History was entirely made of PowerPoints and lectures, so I didn't have to try to and make my mouth form the jumble of thoughts in my head for an entire hour. I threw myself into my notes like never before.

And when the bell rang, I sat still while Ryan packed up. I couldn't help but glance up as he swung his backpack onto his shoulder. We locked eyes. Damnit.

"Well, see you… Mind if I ask your name?"

I actually looked at him this time. "Victoria Greene."

He smiled. "Well then, I'll see you soon, Vicky."

"It's Tori."

I didn't mean to say it so harsh, but I always hated Vicky. That's what my Dad called me.

Ryan just nodded. "Cool."

I wondered if I had ruined all my chances at Ryan with just those two words. Then I remembered I never even had a chance to begin with.

My break form Ryan only lasted two periods. As I walked into Biology, my eyes locked with a familiar green backpack. Oh, no.

"Wow. Three classes, huh, Tori?"

Again, I laughed way too hard. Man, I had to get that checked.

Ryan sat at my lab table. _My _lab table; I'd sat here alone for the past few months, enjoying my space.

Our teacher, Mr. Deines, was often a little late to class, so I braced myself for Ryan to strike up a conversation. It didn't take long.

"Mind if I ask what you've got next?"

"Lunch."

"And after that?"

"P.E."

"With who?"

"Mahoney."

He paused.

I looked at him anxiously. "You don't have P.E. too, do you?"

He smiled. One of those bright white, movie-star smiles. I manages not to look away. "What, you getting tired of me?"

"No! I mean, I don't mind you in my classes…" I trailed off. A sudden spark of bravery hit me. "What do you have seventh period?"

"Spanish."

"One, two, or three?"

He had to pull out his schedule for that. I was proud of myself. Two unaided questions from me. Maybe I was getting used to this.

"Spanish Two, with Rivero."

"That's scary," I murmured.

Ryan laughed. His laugh was perfect, of course. "Five out of seven, huh? If I ever miss a day, I hope you don't mind if I ask you what I missed."

I looked at him again, clear in the face. "Not at all," I said smoothly. Man, I was getting good at this social stuff.

Deines finally arrived. Ryan went up to him too, and I used the time to get out my books and pencil.

"Everyone, this is Ryan Jones. Ryan Jones, everyone."

The class nodded to Ryan. Biology wasn't a fun class. Deines was infamous for his dry lectures and almost nonexistent understanding of teenagers. He shook hands with Ryan before Ryan came back to his seat. As Deines turned his back to us to write something on the board, Ryan leaned toward me. I think my heart skipped a beat.

"This is a hard class, I take it?"

I nodded, then pointed to Deines' back. Thankfully, Ryan understood, and I focused in on synapses and axons for the next hour.

This time, when the bell rang, Ryan and I walked out of the classroom together. I couldn't help but notice in the halls all the stares I got. Obviously, Ryan was getting double takes, but I was getting incredulous looks. Clearly, it was a mystery to all the girls in leopard miniskirts how I, in jeans and a oversized hoodie, got to walk with this handsome man.

I showed Ryan a quick shortcut through the teacher's parking lot to the gym, and we parted ways to get changed.

The locker room was smelly as always, but today I felt a few more stares than normal. Finally, as I was tying my shoes, one of the girls spoke up.

"That Ryan guy is pretty cute, isn't he?"

"OMG, he is smoking hot!" another said.

And like that, they were off. Every girl in the locker room was fawning and squealing over Ryan. I felt my shoulders hunch as I walked toward the door. A mirror hung just before the exit. I glanced at it as I left the locker-room.

Standard, slightly stained white shirt with baggy, P.E. issued shorts. Pale, skinny legs, glasses… yeah, I was the total package. The other girls wore low-cut, close fitting shirts, booty-shorts, and cute little sneakers. I didn't want to go out there and stand next to them. It was literally a lineup, a comparison of hot vs. not. I wouldn't say I was ugly, just plain. Just different. I had short hair—like spiked, boy-short hair. I guess my eyes were okay—blue, but behind the glasses they looked brownish. I would have worn contacts, but it's not like I got an email about Ryan showing up today.

I shuffled and dragged my feet to the gym. I could hear the guys shooting hoops while they waited for the girls to change. Generally, I was the first out of the girl's locker-room, and sometimes I'd join in on a basketball game. But today, I slide along the wall, trying to stay out of mind for everyone. I didn't see Ryan yet, luckily. He was probably getting the lowdown from Mahoney.

I sat down in my spot on the wall and waited, hugging my knees, for the others girl to show up and steal my Ryan.

I always disliked P.E.. Now I hated it.

Not to say I wasn't athletic. Surprisingly, I'm fairly average in sports, besides running. I was one of the few girls who actually tried, and I wasn't afraid of the ball or anything. Not to say I looked good do it though; I'd seen footage. Yeah, I'd get the job done, but I looked like a duck trying to fly; flapping my arms around and twisting my legs in weird directions. I was never graceful, and the other blondeheads in my class added insult to injury. Somehow, I got stuck with the supermodels.

Mahoney finally entered the gym, followed by Ryan in a uniform. Mahoney gathered us around and introduced Ryan. I hung around at the back, practically out of sight, but when Mahoney asked us to say hello to Ryan, he looked straight at me and smiled.

We were in the middle of our soccer unit. I was picked for goalie ( I could kick okay, but I hands like glue), and Ryan decided to play defense near me. Or team was pretty good, and the ball ended up on the enemy's side more than ours. Naturally, Ryan was a natural athlete. He never went forward, but when he had the ball he played like a pro.

The other girls were actually playing today, daintly kicking the ball and playing the damsel whenever Ryan was nearby. Mattie Haynes was in the class, and I watched Ryan give her a hand after she "fell". She batted her eyelashes and everything, but Ryan was already walking back to his position. He glanced back at me, and must have caught my sour expression.

"I hope you didn't want to stop any goals today," he joked. I had the sense enough to laugh, and this time it was just right. I really was getting the hang of it.

We got released a few minutes early to change, and Ryan waited for me outside the gym. Self-conscious of my sweat, I tried to smile as I saw him, but I think I just grimaced instead.

Senora Rivero tested Ryan's Spanish in front of the class by having him try to introduce himself to us. He did a pretty good job, and Rivero seemed pleased he at least knew that much. I knew she couldn't stand all the guys who think being educated isn't cool. He was a pretty great teacher.

Unfortunately, Spanish Two was a full class. I was sandwiched between a girl that breathed too loudly and a boy that smelled faintly of B.O., so Ryan had to sit a few rows away, shoved in a corner seat. We made eye contact before I turned around to concentrate on Rivero. Spanish wasn't exactly easy to half-pay attention to.

Rivero was feeling nice today; we got out of school five minute early. As I was walking out the classroom, I paused to look for Ryan. I spotted him chatting with Cameron Fields, another football player, so I decided to head out.

Not two minutes later however, I heard my name behind me. I turned to see Ryan waving, just before he got into his car. I waved back, awkwardly, nearly tripping over nothing. As I turned the keys in my car and put it in reverse, I allowed myself a small smile. Today was a good day, and for once, I couldn't wait for school tomorrow.

I was having a great dream when my phone went off. Bleary eyed, and blind already without my glasses, I pressed the screen to my face. It was 10:30. Ryan was calling.

I pressed accept and answered groggily, "What'd ya want?"

"I called pretty late didn't I?"

"I've got a test tomorrow you know," I said sleepily.

"Would you mind helping me study for Bio after school tomorrow? I really need this test to be good if I'm ever gonna get that B."

"Yeah, I'll help. Now, goodnight, Ryan, I need my beauty sleep."

"Goodnight, Tori."

I was out in thirty seconds.

The next morning, I stumbled down the stairs to the smell of coffee. I spotted someone in a bathrobe.

"Morning, Dad. I didn't know you were up so—"

"Excuse me?"

A mess of red hair poked its head around the corner. I froze.

"Sorry, its just, you know, that's _my dad's_ robe…"

"So you must be Vicky," the redhead said casually. She leaned a hand against the counter and gave me a really phony smile. "Your dad's a great man."

I couldn't help it. "Yeah, I'm sure he was great last night," I blurted.

She opened her mouth, shocked, then laughed in a really high, false voice. She quickly filled up a cup with coffee and hurried back toward my dad's room without so much as another glance at me.

I slumped down into my chair, not even hungry anymore. Even when I was little, I could remember waking up to a different person every few days. Of course, I was young then, and had no idea what was really going on. Now… it made me miss living with Mom. But she was busy writing books and selling houses, and had no time for a teenager. In a way, so was Dad. But I'd prefer waking up to some random lady than waking up in a boarding school. Dad was rich too, but he never sent me away. We had an understanding that Mom and I never shared; personal space. I stay out of his life, and he stays out of mine.

I decided to have an apple to go, arriving at school to an empty parking lot. The sun was barely up, and first period was still forty minutes away. I enjoyed my quiet mornings; sometimes I'd read a book, and sometimes I'd get started on the day's homework. But today, I tore into my apple and stared gloomily at the football field next to the parking lot. Most of the time, I don't mind Dad's dates, but when I don't expect them they just remind me of how backwards my family is.

Cars slowly began to fill in around me. The other kids honked and waved good mornings to each other. Finally, I headed across campus to my first hour.

With finals only a month away, everyone was cramming all the year's info into late night study sessions. Students were giving it their all one last few tests before grades closed, trying to get an A or even just pass a class.

Like Ryan. After tearing up the fields during the football season, and bringing home a state trophy, Ryan was pushing for a B average. Of course, he was smart, but with all the traveling and practices a few of his classes started to slip, including infamous Biology. The other teachers tried to give the football team some slack, on account of our team normally being below average, despite Johnny's ranting and raving, but Deines would have nothing of it. Now Ryan was tottering on a 78%, and he needed at least a B+ on this test if he ever wanted a B average for the class.

As usual, Ryan arrived fashionably ten seconds late to class. Everyone smiled and said hello and good morning to the star of the Ravenmore High Rockets. I heard a couple high fives before Ryan finally sat down next to me.

It was like he never hung up the phone.

"How does Mickey's sound?"

"How could we study in that noise?"

"Easy. I know everything; it whether or not I can remember it when you ask me a question that matters. Come on, Tori, the foods great."

"Hey, I never said no. Just bring your stuff to seventh, okay? Let's beat the after-school rush and leave straight from Spanish."

Ryan agreed. By then, Austin cleared his throat and was ready to hand out some papers. Ryan turned around and tried to steal Johnny's pencil without him noticing, and I focused in on my work. Old habits die hard, I guess. Same old boys, same old Tori.

Ryan and I booked it out of Spanish, managing to get to Mickey's and grab the best table, way in the back bordered by two booths. Mickey's was a high school favorite. Like something out of a storybook, the place was all decked out in 50s style looks and food. The forty-year-old speakers blared out Elvis hits all day, and the waitresses wore poodle skirts. Honestly, it was probably the corniest place on earth, but the food was terrific and the school kinda embraced the restaurant as an unofficial cafeteria.

Naturally, I wanted to hit the books immediately, but good old Ryan refused to recite a single fact until he had a burger and coke in front of him. I hated burgers, so I ordered a hot dog and chocolate shake.

The TV was on, and we couldn't help but notice the headline: _Mutant Attacks, Robs Department Store_. Seemed like every day one of them was holding a bank hostage or accidently exploding. I didn't mind mutants much; I'd only met a few, and all they seemed was scared, alone. I know a lot of people that hated having "walking time bombs" like those "freaks" lose on the streets, but I'd bet only a handful of the million or so mutants in the US were actually dangerous.

"Think that's what really happened?" Ryan said quietly. I glanced back at the screen. The news people were interviewing the victim.

I nodded sadly. "The guy probably thought that mutant was an easy target, and when it didn't work out, he called it an attack."

The victim looked rough, probably homeless, and was clearly anti-mutant. We couldn't hear him, but he kept waving his arms and pretending to choke an invisible person.

"I hope he got away."

I glanced at Ryan. He hated how people automatically assumed the worst of mutants. While I did think they should at least wear a warning or something, I agreed people overreacted to anything mutants did.

As soon as the waitress had her back turned, I zeroed in on him.

"What's the outer membrane of a cell composed of?"

He literally stretched his arms out, cracked his knuckles, and rested them on the back of his neck. "Phospholipid bilayer," he said easily.

I raised an eyebrow and put my fingers together, drumming them like some old-fashioned villain. "Good, good. What is programmed cell death?"

"Apoptosis."

I kept the charade up until our food arrived. Honestly, I was pretty hungry, and as soon as the waitress turned her back I dove right in. The food here never disappoints.

"How can you think of all this off the top of your head?"

"What?" I was busy coating my French fry in the perfect amount of ketchup.

"You're a human dictionary. How come?"

I chewed my fry slowly. "I guess I just have a lot of time on my hands," I said.

"Not much of the social type, are you?"

"Honestly, I haven't spent this much time away from school or home since… well, ever. I wasn't really the social butterfly when I was younger."

He gave me a look, as if to say, go on.

So I did. "My parents kinda traded me back and forth every year until high school. I never got a chance to develop any friendships. So, I was bored and had nothing to do, so I decided to study… for everything. At least grades moved with me, no matter where my parents stuck me."

Ryan didn't say anything. I could feel the awkwardness. He didn't want to hear my life's story; why did I even say all that stuff?

"Did I ever tell you about my parents?"

Of course he had… right? "I… I never really thought to ask," I said quietly.

He nodded all-knowingly. " I never knew my dad. How stereotypical, right? I guess he was always working late, or sneaking out in the middle of the night. To work. Yeah right. Well, he started staying away for days, then weeks, then… forever."

"Jeez."

Yeah. My biggest crush just tells me about his long-lost father, and all I say is jeez. Sometimes, my mouth moves before I think. I searched for something more intelligent to say.

"At least you still got your mom around."

I was supposed to say it all kindly and reassuring, but I couldn't help but think I sounded jealous and petty. Then Ryan locked eyes with me.

"She died last year."

That was it. He lifted his burger up to his mouth. Just left the story there, with the greatest cliffhanger. Naturally, I wanted to know the how, the why, and who's he living with now, but I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut this time. Then, a revelation.

"That's why you moved."

I kinda blurted it out, with no context whatsoever, so I got a raised eyebrow from Ryan. I cleared my throat a little and talked to my French fries, too nervous to look up. "I mean, your godparents must live here, and that's why you transferred."

I didn't dare look up. Awkwardly swirling a fry in my ketchup, I waited for Ryan to get up and storm off, or something.

He just sighed. "They don't even have kids. Heck, Dan's only five years older than me."

"Dan?" There I go again, just blurting it out.

"Dan and Stacy. Dan's my mom's brother."

"Oh."

We were silent again. I happen to glance over at my books. "So, uh, maybe a few more questions?"

"You're pretty nosy today."

I blinked a few times and finally forced myself to look up. Ryan was staring at the table, arms folded. "I meant… uh, you know, the Biology test…" Man, I literally felt like dying at that moment. Ryan rarely snapped, and never at me. I felt miserable.

"I'll do fine. I don't need your help anymore."

That was about all I could take. I could barely converse with someone, and now, I managed to tick off my only friend. My vision blurred a little. I blinked a bunch; there was no way I was going to cry over a stupid embarrassment like this. Quietly, I slid my books off the table, pressing them to my chest. Silently, I prayed the waitress would come around to our table soon.

My wish was granted. She sauntered up to our table, all smiles. She didn't even say a word. I stood up, slammed five dollars on the table, hugged my books and tried not to stumble on my way out the door. And I nearly did. I almost tripped over nothing. Man, was I such an idiot.

I could barely see where I was going, the tears were so bad. Jeez, I was angry with myself. I cry way too easily at the stupidest things. A main characters dies in the picture of the year? No problem. But I answer a question wrong in class and the there's no way to turn off the waterworks.

I swear I was imagining it, but I heard someone call my name. Ignored, because the only person who'd be calling my name right now was the only guy in the world I could genuinely say I loved. And believe me, I was in no mood to try and talk to him.

But I was never the athlete in school. That was all Ryan's department, and soon enough, I heard a pair of footsteps next to me. I still didn't look up.

"I didn't mean to snap like that," Ryan said.

Of you did, I thought. I was being nosy, you said it yourself. I'm no great conversationalist anyway, so why be surprised I screwed this up. For some reason, I suddenly became aware of the three pimples on my face. Immediately, a fresh flood of tears ran down my face. Just great. I was so frustrated, I stumbled a little. Over nothing, as usual. God, why was I so stupid?

"You okay?"

He said it so perfect. He could make a stumble turn into the coolest new move, I was positive of that. Impulsively, I tried to wipe away some of the tears.

"Are you crying?"

"No!" I tried to speed up, but all I did was hit my toe painfully against the sidewalk.

"Your crying, Tori."

"No! No I'm not. I'm just…" I couldn't say anything. My mouth felt dry, and my tongue felt like a useless lump of flesh. My brain just shut off. I ended up grunting in exasperation.

Ryan grabbed my arm. I wouldn't make him force me to halt, so I just stopped and sort of half-turned toward him. I zeroed in on the concrete, noticing Ryan's red shoes out of the corner of my eye.

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean anything toward you, okay? I just get frustrated with Dan and Stacy that's all."

I just moaned in response. I must have looked terrible. Those damn three pimples. "Don't you worry," I said sarcastically, "I know all about frustration with the guardians. Just leave me alone."

I was really angry for some reason. I guess I didn't like how Ryan thought this was his fault. I wish he would just realize it was always my fault, never anyone else's.

I started to walk again, but Ryan didn't leave. He didn't say anything, just walked a step behind me. I felt better when he did that. I mean, I wouldn't have to try and explain, but I wasn't losing him or anything.

I walked all the way home, not realizing my car was at school until I stopped un front my mailbox. I glanced at Ryan, standing a few feet away. He had this wounded, apologetic look on his face, and immediately the anger returned.

"Just stop blaming yourself! Gosh!" And I turned to walk up my driveway.

Only, I never even took a step. One moment, I was trying to hold back tears, and the next, there was a brilliant flash of white. Immediately, I turned to Ryan.

He was there, holding me, hugging me, protecting me, when the world exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

2

With sunrise came the usual sounds of the morning—a car door slamming, the distant sounds of honking, a woman screaming, and a gunshot breaking the silence of dawn. Bright daylight streams through shattered glass as a breeze flutters half-burned curtains.

I hadn't slept all night. Not that I was afraid of anything particular, but recently, on top of my new… abilities… I physically couldn't sleep anymore. I stood up from my chair—I lost my bed weeks ago—and walked through the hallway down to what used to be the kitchen. A gaping hole greeted me where once my front door had been.

By force of habit I sat down at the table, even though I hardly ate anymore. I tried to rub my temples, but that didn't do anything to ease the throbbing. This latest headache had stayed for the better of a week, and nothing I did seemed to affect it.

I just sat there for a while, trying to remember what I was going to do. I kept forgetting things lately. My gaze happened to roam over the backyard. Flitting images of lush green and shady trees cloud my vision for a moment. Only a moment. Then, all I could notice was the brown, dry grass, the shriveled, shattered remains of trees, and the few planks left on the fence I hadn't used for firewood. I noticed a mound of deep, dark earth. It took me a second to remember, and suddenly I decided the house was feeling particularly gloomy today. I paused on my way out the hole.

To my neighbors, they would have noticed a slight shimmer, an almost imperceptible shiver. Then they would have noticed a small, pale, brown-haired girl climb down the wreckage of the front porch.

That is, to the few neighbors I still had left. Most of the houses were leveled in the explosion—by luck, mine was only partially obliterated.

Yeah, lucky me.

My car was already beginning to be overrun my weeds. I looked at it, and couldn't help but smile. I used to drive that thing five miles to school. How wasteful. I could walk to anywhere in town in less than an hour, and yet I drove everywhere. Of course, now that gas was nearly non-existent, hardly a car could be seen on the road, except for the MRD tanks.

The walk to Ravenmore High was uneventful. On days past, I'd watch dozens of possible mutants be arrested by the MRDies. Some of them I knew; we'd lock eyes for a second, then I'd quickly walk away.

Obviously I didn't go to school anymore, but as one of Siderock's largest buildings, the school quickly became a hub for the homeless and injured. The real hospital was in a larger town, over twenty miles away, and with the town quarantined, the local clinics were quickly overrun.

Siderock has spent the night alone, terrified, not really sure what had happened. Meanwhile, newly mutated individuals were wrecking havoc on the town, burning buildings, rampaging through the streets, or accidently causing power outages. The students of Ravenmore High, after being blown out of their homes, slowly trickled in to the one safe haven they knew; the high school. Their families came with, and soon the school was teeming with the bruised and battered and possibly mutating.

Siderock spent the night alone. Helicopters roamed the skies, police cars and fire trucks sped around the town, trying vainly to save as many people as possible. Giant flood lights lit up the night skies, surrounding us like some sort of glowing net.

The next day, tanks traveled the streets instead of cars. Loudspeakers blared instructions to gather at Ravenmore High. Most of the town was there anyway, and the people milled about, murmuring voices a sharp contrast the noise of the tanks and their armed men. People shuffled in, some escorted, some carried. Even as they poured in, some were taken away. We all knew what had happened already; stories circulated the school of so-and-so suddenly turning into human porcupine or what's-his-name going berserk and crashing through brick walls.

They finally told us what the hell was going on at two 'o'clock. They showed up in suits and ties, wearing clean, crisp uniforms, and followed by a posse of cameramen and reporters. We all stood numbly, some of us holding the shredding remains of our pants up with two fingers—the other three had been blown off.

They said it was an attack. We didn't say anything; the silent frustration could almost be touchable. A bomb was dropped. We barely held back our annoyance. They said we were exposed to radiation, the mutating kind. We nodded sarcastically, oh-ing and aw-ing like we hadn't thought of this before.

And that was it. The suits and ties left. The reporters stayed, interviewed some of us. But we didn't have time for that bullcrap. We shuffled back to our houses, collected what remained, and came back to the school. The cameras rolled. We set up first aid stations and began to assemble a morgue team. The cameras rolled. Kids started to come up to us and ask for a parent, a brother. The cameras rolled. A woman cried, holding the hand of a man just recently deceased. She stood up and punched a reporter after he asked what she was feeling. The cameras stopped, and the woman was hauled away for possible mutation.

I heard all this from schoolmates. Where was I? In my front yard. Alone. Dead.

I don't know where Ryan went. The explosion sent me flying, and I remember Ryan's body being jerked away. The sky was on fire, people were screaming. I saw someone burning, running away. Then everything went black.

I died there, on my front lawn. I know I did, because when I woke up, I was inside a bag. The kind they put you in when there's no more room in the morgue. The kind they stack on top of each other, and label with numbers.

Of course, I was terrified. I clawed at the blackness in front of me, and soon I saw light. It blinded me.

When I rolled out of my bag, coughing up blood and gasping for air, I scared the poor man in charge of labeling the bags so much that he had to be taken away for possible insanity. I was picked up by the MRDies, tested for mutation, and declared fit for duty, despite having been dead an hour ago. They gave me a new set of clothes and, since I couldn't remember my name, took me to the high school where a teacher recognized me. Of course, then I began to remember who I was, and immediately tried to find my dad.

I found him in the infirmary, asleep. Bandages covered his torso, and his arm was in a sling. I didn't wake him; I just sat by his side. I guess I was there for five hours, but to me it felt like nothing. I occasionally coughed up some blood, enough that Dad's nurse decided I'd better stay there in case I collapsed or something.

When he woke, the first thing he said was my name. I smiled and took his hand, and quietly asked what happened to him.

"I was… reading… in my room, and then I was on the floor, and everything hurt."

Just like Dad to vaguely describe something significant like a bomb dropping. He told me the bomb hit only a few miles from our house, and while he was lucky to have survived, I should have been dead. Thanks for the vote of confidence, father. He told me he had accepted I'd died when I never showed up the next day. I told him what little I could remember about my ordeal.

He smiled and said he was glad to have a friendly face around again. The infirmary discharged us the next day to make room for a new wave of patients. We walked home together, with him leaning heavily on me. I tried to make him a nice meal of scrambled eggs, but the stove wasn't working, and I ended up giving him some slices of bread.

He was tired from the walk, tired from finding me safe and sound, and went to bed shortly after my pitiful meal. He promised me he'd try and get me out of here, back to Arizona with Mom. I smiled and wished him goodnight.

He died in his sleep. I hope peacefully, happy knowing his daughter was alive and well. I buried him myself in our backyard. Strangely, when the past shovelful of dirt covered my dad's body, I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel angry either.

I felt nothing.

I stood there, resting my weight on the handle of the shovel, for a few minutes before heading back inside. I leaned the shovel against the garage wall, stood back for a few seconds, and wondered why I'd grabbed it in the first place. Shrugging, I decided I'd ask Dad.


	3. Chapter 3

****The last chapter was very dark, and mostly flashbacks, and fairly confusing—Sorry! At this point, I'm pretty much done with backstory. Also, sorry it's taken me so long. I've been busy and haven't had the time to write my preferred style—four to six solid hours getting lost in the world of the story! Anyway, hope you enjoy!** **

New Ravenmore was busy as usual by the time I strolled up the front sidewalk. The courtyard, once a hangout for all the underclassmen that couldn't leave campus, was now littered with tents. Two months had passed since the bomb went off, and still people stayed here. The MRDies offered to rebuild homes with the help of the community, but with so many of us being picked off by disease and mutations, people were valuing the little time they had left. Classmates I distinctly remember mouthing off about how bad their parents were now huddled together, talking about anything, everything.

With New Ravenmore suddenly a hot spot, jobs began to appear for those healthy enough to apply. In the beginning, jobs were organized and assigned by the MRDies, but over time the few town leaders left gradually transferred the duty to themselves. As more and more residents healed form wounds, more and more residents wanted to give back to their community. Most of the jobs were cleanup crew—removing the still thousands of pounds of debris from the bomb or cleaning up after a mutant rampage—but a growing number of jobs involved caring for the victims of some of the worst effects of the bomb.

Some people mutate. Some people mutate into fantastic beasts or possess fantastic powers, but others simply grow a second pinky or a tumor on their brain. Unfortunately, the latter was more common.

It was my job at New Ravenmore to administer some of the drugs the MRDies provided to these cancer-stricken patients.

I checked out my kit and a list of patients, tugging a little on the clipboard when the male clerk's hand lingered. I glanced up at him and noticed him ogling. I frowned, briskly turned, and made a mental note to tone down my attractiveness.

I tried not to think too much about my work, preferring not to get attached to anyone. Half my patients die within a week, or at the very least slowly fester away to nothing but empty husks. I simply administered the drugs, put a bandage over the wound, and moved on. Methodical, robotic. I find I don't remember anyone this way, and I like that.

As I finished wrapping a bandage, I glanced down at my clipboard at the next patient, the one I'd been saving for last. Johnny Burns. I don't remember much about him. I know we had a lot of classes together in elementary school, but I couldn't remember seeing him from high school. Anyway, I faintly remember him being a huge jerk, and I wasn't looking forward to catching up to him.

The clipboard directed me to the gym. How stereotypical, he was always the jock. I wonder if he made the football team. Inside, cots were lined up, four rows by twenty. It took me no more than a few seconds to spot Johnny, tossing and turning on one of the cots in a corner of the gym. I made my way through the crowded room, weaving between coughing people and saddened families.

I knelt down next to Johnny, and reached for his forehead. He was burning up. Ironic, given his last name. I noticed odd protrusions around his hairline, and all down his neck, disappearing under his shirt. I tried not to dwell on that too much, and focused only on the fever. I opened my kit and began rummaging through, pulling out a rag and an ice pack. I folded the rag, placed it on his forehead, and cracked the ice pack. I shook it to get the chemicals activated, and placed that over his forehead as well.

Johnny groaned from the sudden cold, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at me for a few seconds, mouth slightly open.

"V-Victoria? Victoria Greene?" his eyes traveled down my body. I gave him a dark look. "Lookin' good," he said faintly.

I nodded, pretending to rummage through my kit again. Even after a bomb is dropped, decimating the town, I still can't seem to shake my stupid social awkwardness. I finally find the needle I wanted, and held it out to him. He pulls away slightly, wincing. I lower the needle and wait for him to relax.

"I never took you for the nurse type," he joked weakly.

I shrugged, and adamantly held out the needle again. He sighed and held out his arm, rolling his eyes away. "Obviously, I'm perfectly healthy… I don't even know _why_ I need a shot."

I barely heard him, and pulled the needle out, emptied, and pressed my thumb in the wound. With the other hand, I deftly slapped a bandage on. I made to stand up, and suddenly Johnny grabbed me.

_The pig!_ I thought at first, but then I saw Johnny's eyes. They were wide, scared. Normally, my patients went to sleep after I administered the drugs.

"What…" he snarled through bare teeth, "What… did you…" he started to shake, violently. I pried his fingers off my arm. They were locked, rigid. His eyelids fluttered, and suddenly sweat was pouring from him. The protrusions all across his body _glowed_, I swear. Smoldering, like they were about to catch fire. I backed away, scared.

But before I could do anything else, abruptly he went limp. The glow disappeared as suddenly as it came. He even sighed, and his eyes closed. I thought he was dead for a second, until the sounds of soft snoring drifted from his lips.

I stood there, shocked. I looked around. No one else seemed to have noticed anything. I looked back at Johnny, peacefully asleep. Johnny had just freaked out, I thought, nothing strange. The fever must have done something, that's all.

I quickly and quietly gathered my things, sneaking glances at Johnny. He never stirred.

I practically ran to the front office and turned in my gear and clipboard. Believe me, I know when I imagine things, and I know when I see things. At least, I think I do. I used to. Hell, lately, I've been forgetting my own address. And I've lived in the same house for… a long time. I can't remember the exact dates. I rubbed my temple instinctually, sighing when I remembered that didn't do anything.

"It's a bummer, right?"

I looked up. The clerk was looking at me, all sweaty and nervous. I gave him a sad smile. That seemed to bolster his courage. Great.

"I mean, it's great and all that we're helping everyone, right, but it's also really sad. Right?"

I nodded kindly, hoping he'd wrap this up soon.

He just looked at me then, a dorky grin plastered to his face. My smile became forced, and I knocked on the table. He snapped out of it.

"Oh! Uh, here you go, of course, Victoria… that's a nice name…" he spent an awful long time filling out the time slip. I figured he wrote his number on it or something. I nodded again as he handed me the slip of paper, hoping he wasn't going to stay up all night waiting. As I pushed the door open I glanced back and caught him still staring at me. I _really_ had to tone it down tomorrow.

The sun was just past its peak, and I was done for the day. The other caretakers spent time with their patients, and they usually wrapped up around three or four in the afternoon.

Most of New Ravenmore was on lunch break. I had to sidestep more than a few picnics and social gatherings. One group was kicking around a ball. I made sure to steer clear of them.

Once I was out of New Ravenmore, I really relaxed. The MRDies had eyes everywhere in there. For the most part, they were good to us, albeit a little more uptight that we'd like. But being watched all the time was more than a little nerve-racking, and I could never take more than a day's worth of it. I tried it once, spending the night with all the other survivors, but I couldn't sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing everyone, like I was the cameras. I even saw myself, curled into a ball, every muscle tensed. It was creepy for sure.

I thought I was walking home, but an hour in I realized I wasn't recognizing anything. I sighed and took at seat on a nearby bus stop bench. This happened occasionally. I would get lost in my thoughts and forget a few things. But most of the time they came back to me if I waited.

This part of town had been sturdy; although the glass had been blown out and a few buildings had toppled, most of them remained, maybe with a bit of a lean to them. However, the area was still long abandoned. Some thought itched at the back of my head, something about the area, but as soon as I tried to remember the idea disappeared. I sighed again. My memory was getting worse and worse. But I still couldn't figure out a pattern. One time, I'd forget something small, like where I'd placed a pencil, but other times… I spent a few days wandering near The Fence, because I thought I lived on the other side. The MRDies eventually had enough of me setting off the alarms, and brought me back to New Ravenmore. The sight of the three flagpoles in front of the school jogged my memory, and I made it back home that night. Of course, from then on, I was watched closely. Memory loss was a sign of dangerous mutation, they believed.

They weren't wrong.

It was eerie to not hear the sounds of life. No cars, no planes, no people. No animals; they reportedly all ran off before the bomb was dropped. They sensed it, or something. I wish we could have done that.

I heard a trash can tip. The crash was deafening in the silence. No animals, right? Something else made the noise. I didn't get up, didn't move. I'd found the mutants and wildlings didn't bother you if you didn't bother them. For the most part.

I saw the hunched figure slowly shuffle out from an alley a good four hundred yards away. It sniffed the air, took a few steps, then sniffed again. It was wearing raggedy, muddy clothes, but when it turned its head toward me I saw milky white eyes. Blind. Its legs were all weird too; contorted at odd angles. No wonder it couldn't walk well.

The figure slowly made its way down the street until it disappeared into another alley. I let out the breath I was holding, impulsively. I really didn't need to hold my breath.

I glanced up, and happened to notice the hills. I remember, when I was little, I used to call them mountains. Dad would laugh and promise to show me some real mountains one day. I remembered my house, and its big, green, lush backyard, and began to make my way back home.


	4. Chapter 4

***Sorry I haven't written in a while. School and such, and my love of my other, ongoing fanfiction story. This chapter's all about action! Hope everyone enjoys, and don't forget to review of you have questions, ideas, or concerns!***

The sun was a little past midday as I weaved my way through an overgrown neighborhood. I think I had a few classmates who used to live here.

I pedaled past houses taken over by two foot high grass. These houses used to be the picture of what a home owner's association would be. Now, they had just reached a state of decay on par with "trailer trash" and not quite "post-apocalyptic". The lawn decorations, once quite classy, now looked like junk. I passed a plastic pink flamingo, wondering who still thought those were in. It was strange to see.

As I turned off a paved street onto a dirt road, my bike squeaked. Nothing hideous, just the usual wear and tear squeak of a well-loved bike. I stopped immediately. This neighborhood was completely evacuated. I was the sole living thing for a good square mile.

Or, at least, I was supposed to be.

All I should have heard was the slight breeze rustling through the deadened tree branches and what few remaining leaves there were. But I heard it. The snap of a twig, the crunch of brittle, fallen leaves. I waited and waited, listening.

Suddenly, I whipped the bike around and sped off back the way I came. I heard a terrifying roar behind me. Obviously, I spoiled someone's plans.

My legs pumped as hard as they could. I could hear the heavy thud thud thud of footsteps. Four. Whatever was behind me was certainly not human. Not anymore.

I zoomed around a corner, my back tire skidding slightly. I took the opportunity to glance at whatever was chasing me; I regretted it immediately.

It was covered in blackish, brownish fur, with massive, pointed teeth. Drool poured from its jaws, running down its matted coat and spinning off behind it. Huge claws dug into the cement road, scrabbling, trying to get a purchase on the smooth texture. Every footstep was accompanied with a terrible snarl or howl as it tried to gain some sort of ground.

Luckily, I'm pretty damn speedy on my bike, and the roads all sloped down. And, I knew where I was going; I could brace for my turns in preparation, but the creature had only a second to try and move its massive bulk on a hairpin turn.

I sped down empty street after empty street. I tried to read the street names, but with my speed and imminent death barreling down on me I could only get a few letters and general size. Was that Wasatch Blvd, or Washington Rd? The creature clipped the edge of my jacket with a swipe. God, I hope it was Washington, I thought, darting down the next road. Just a few more yards...

Suddenly, my bike was ripped out from under me. For a second, I kept going forward, still in position, then the ground rushed toward me. Instinctively, I held out my arms.

I rolled a good twenty feet before coming to a stop. Blinking, I managed to scramble to my feet and glance back at my bike.

The creature was ripping it to shreds. I mean, literally ripping metal from metal, like it was nothing more than paper.

My bike was decimated in a matter of seconds. Its eyes locked on me. I backed up a few steps.

Stepping over the wreckage of my bike, the creature slowly stalked toward me. Its mouth was a living cauldron of droll and slimy tongue as it licked its lips. I kept backing up, slowly but surely.

It knew it had me cornered. A snicker escaped its throat, and it stood up on its hind legs. Walking toward me, I watched it smile and crack its knuckles. I was reminded in that moment that this thing was not an animal, not some mindless beast. Somewhere beneath all tat matted fur and deadly teeth was a human. Twisted, insane, and murdering, but still an intelligent human. The body of a monster, with the mind and critical thinking of a human. The ultimate predator.

It laughed then, a guttural, horrifying cackle as it raised one giant, clawed hand.

It was lightening fast, but I was the speed of sound. I rolled to the left, barely dodging the claws as they dug into the cement. Popping up, I darted around behind it and ran for my bike. The twisted remains of metal were scattered across the road, but I managed to pick up a sizable chunk of the frame. As my hand touched it, my vision blurred and shifted for a second. Blinking, I closed my fingers around the needle-like sword and turned around.

The creature was furious. It was looking over its shoulder as it turned, its eyes drilling into me. A chunk of cement was in its palm. It crushed it into rubble with a snarl and dropped to all fours.

I turned to the side and brandished my sword. With a roar, the beast charged at me. But again, I flitted to the left, slashing as I went. I heard a satisfactory howl, but I didn't stop to look what I'd done. I happened to glance up and see a pink flamingo staring at me with a stupid grin fixed on it face. I finally realized where I was. Only another block or so and I was safe.

Running never felt so slow. I could hear the creature charging me, and at the last second I flattening myself on the ground. It sailed over me, skidding on the pavement, and I quickly ducked underneath another swing from its massive arm. I drove my sword into its arm, losing it in the process. I kept going though, despite having lost my only hope of defense.

I cut through someone's yard, using the overgrown weeds to slow down the giant while I weaved my way through the thicket. It howled in frustration. I couldn't help but grin, knowing the creature thought little sweet me was sure to be easy prey. And then my smile disappeared, realizing it was a human who hunted and ate humans.

I broke out onto the street, glanced both ways (old habits die hard), and sprinted down it. I could hear the creature still pushing through the weeds and overgrowth. Turning around, I waited for it to break through.

With a roar and a burst of vegetation, the creature ran onto the street, ran toward me with blood-crazy eyes... And stopped dead in its tracks.

It looked in horror as ten or so armored men stepped forward, cocking shotguns. A tank swung its turret around and locked on. Another dozen or so men stepped out from behind barricades and fences, each holding machine guns. As the creature began to back away, one of the men took aim with a bigger, bulkier weapon. The creature spotted him, and turned in terror, trying to get a hold on the cement. The man fired his weapon, but instead of a bullet or a missile, a net launched out.

The creature howled in frustration as the net rained down over it. It fell to the ground with a shuddering thud, its legs tangled up in the netting.

Other men moved up then, unloading darts into the creature. After nearly a dozen, the creature finally gave up, and slumped, unmoving. Only the hairs on its back trembled, showing signs of life.

I stood a little back from the MRDies while they did their work. While I'm glad the creature won't be hunting anyone else, I wasn't too thrilled with the way they handled mutants. Even now, while the creature was completely subdued, even snoring, they clamped an anti-mutant collar around its neck. The creature whimpered as the shocks from the collar grew. The collar only turned off when powers weren't being used; the creature couldn't exactly do that.

I moved to the side as a truck backed up to the creature. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned my head.

"Well done there, kid. Ever think of joining the MRD?" The man was tall, with a mustache. He had striking grey eyes and a nice smile.

I shook my head.

"What's the matter, spooked by that monster?"

I smiled and shook my head again, and pointed at my throat.

His smile disappeared and his hand dropped from my shoulder. "Well, good. The MRD doesn't suit your style."

I watched him as he walked away. I couldn't blame him; practically everyone in Siderock was a mutant. Of course, even if we all weren't rampaging through the streets, we all were threats to humanity. That made sense. To someone, I guess.

I looped around the MRD troop until I spotted my man. Like something out of an old World War II movie, the Major wore his finest every day, right down to every last pin. He had a severe face, weathered by, as he puts it, more than enough encounters with the other kind. Three claw marks run from his forehead down to his upper lip, giving him a perpetual snarl. His cobalt eyes gaze into a man's sole. Most people can't look him in the face, whether its from the scars or the way he stares them down.

I waited patiently for him to bark out orders and unnecessarily criticize a man before stepping up to him. I looked him straight in the eye and raised an eyebrow.

The Major sighed. "What do you want, kid? A Congratulations?"

I didn't do anything.

The Major shook his head and grumbled, "You're reckless, you know that? Fighting that monster on your own, toying with it like that. You will be killed, I can guarantee that."

I nodded quietly.

"Fine!" he snarled, "Here," and shoved a note in my hand, "your choice from the MRD supplies. And don't say the MRD didn't do anything for you."

I nodded and gave him a salute. The note was clearly prewritten, but the Major had his idiosyncrasies. We work my payment before I risk my life, naturally, but the Major doesn't want to look like he's just giving away free passes. Everything is earned, and even if I did just hand the MRDies their most wanted, I still had to be treated like some punk.

Luring mutants wasn't my first choice for work, but as the number of volunteers-no, bait-dwindled, the prizes for helping grew in quality. I'm one of the few who's lasted longer than three outings. Most others have gotten a limb bit off by the second, and by the third they end up dying. I've got ten under my belt... I think. Maybe eight. Damn memory was failing me, again.

I had everything I needed, and more, so the free MRD supplies was wasted on me. But, I could always find some family that needed extra medicine or a new cot.

New Ravenmore was as bustling as ever. News had reached the compound that the neighborhood was clear from rampaging mutants, and families were getting ready to pack up and head back to what houses were left. No one congratulated me; the MRD weren't likely to give credit to some eighteen-year-old, or however old I was. I instinctively rubbed my temples again, wondering if I'd ever remember when my birthday was.

I "talked" with a family known as the Robinsons. With four kids, all seriously cancer stricken, they needed help with medications. I handed them the pass, and managed to duck away before they could try to give me anything.

The walk home was uneventful. I only forgot my way twice, a new record. I think. At least, a new record for the past few weeks. And it only took me a few blocks to realize my mistakes. I was improving.

Home wasn't home anymore. Home was the place I was supposed to go to feel relaxed, and sleep away the hours. Now, as the sun set over the mountains, I sat in a chair and ran over my list.

Who am I? I'm Victoria Greene, possibly eighteen years old. What do I look like? I have blue eyes, brown hair, and I'm averagely tall. Where am I? In Siderock. I used to have a dad, who's name I don't remember, and who's been missing for awhile. I don't have a mother. I don't think so.

I paused.

I used to know a boy named Ryan. I can't remember his last name, or much about him, except that he saved me from the bomb.


End file.
